Don't Trust Me
by MotherOfCreek
Summary: Widowmaker wasn't sure Tracer had a sad bone in her body, but after a small amount of digging there is defiantly something more to the agent than her bubbly whit and charm first suggests... and Widowmaker is determined to use it to her advantage.
1. Bonjour

Bringing her slender fingers towards her lips, Windowmaker inhaled deeply on her cigarette, savouring how the warmth filled her freezing cold lungs. Her body was so cold due to her lowered heartbeat that smoking was the only way to get through the cold nights she'd spend waiting for her target. Hours it would be sometimes, never knowing when the unfortunate name would step in front of her sights.

That fact may shock a few people, that the most talented death weapon in the world could kill so mercilessly someone and not know the reason why. The truth is Widowmaker hated knowing why, because what if she killed some major CEO of a company one week and the next it was just a guy who happened to spill his coffee on one of the TALON commanders? It would make the kill plain, boring and ultimately not give the purple skinned beauty any of the satisfaction she deserved, to keep her enjoying her work, it was something TALON had to do.

Taking one final drag, sucking right until she could feel the stinging in her succulent discoloured lips, Windowmaker threw the stub into her portable ashtray, while all the time being sure to keep eyes narrowed in on the crosshairs of her scope. It must have been coming to around 4-5 hours that she had been stationed there, and this usually meant the intel about the position was corrupt. Despite the numbness of her entire body she stayed, waiting for the mark… or for the kill to be called off.

Her body was now officially freezing, and to stop herself potentially compromising the mission over her body heat another cancer stick was brought to her lips. Before she could even spark it, however, the cutthroat assassin had the odd feeling she was being watched…

"Oh get off it! You know how bad those things are for your health, love?"

Taking her golden eyes away from her scope, the rifle instantly went back to automatic mode, Widowmakers athletic body easily twisting around onto her back so she could see who the voice had belonged to… Even though she already had a pretty good idea as soon as she heard the thick British accent, "Ah, Bonjour… Mon cherie."

Tracer let out a soft giggle, "Aww how sweet, only our second little get together and you already have a cute nickname for me." Tracers guns where both firmly aimed for Widowmakers head, the latter's long flowing hair slightly dangled over her face from the awkward way Widowmaker had to turn around.

A faint smile played over the Talon agents lips, if there was one think she could rely on whenever she saw Tracer it was her quick wit and her love to show it off, "Well… we could stand around flirting all day… or I could shoot you right 'ere…" Widowmaker slightly lowers her gun towards Tracers bright blue harness, making the smaller girl suddenly feel a lot more uncomfortable, "Something tells me you won't be too talkative after that, non?"

Tracer gulped slightly, twitching from having her accelerator aimed at. In reality, it was stupid that she felt more nervous when it was being aimed at rather than her head, but in her world, the choice between death and Chronal Acceleration was an easy choice, the latter being something she wouldn't even wish upon this French pratt. Coming back from her thought and realising she was still kind of in a Mexican standoff, Tracer gathered her nerves. She couldn't give away her biggest secret to her new rival, "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but it seems I've done what I came here to do… so I won't waste your time any longer. To be honest part of me wishes I kept quiet a little longer, I'd much rather see your arse than your face, luv."

Ignoring the childish attempt to rile her Widowmaker turned, only to see that her target had just entered an armoured car with windows her rifle wouldn't be able to pierce in a million years. She had failed. Of all the people in this world she never once expected the first person to outsmart her would be that pathetic excuse for an Overwatch agent. Then again she couldn't insult the girl too much, she did have the brains to outsmart her this time. Maybe it was just a matter over underestimating the girl, something she made a mental note never to do again.

As expected, Tracer was gone by the time she turned around, and all that she left was the sense of emptiness in Widowmakers stomach. Her first failed solo mission… and no pleasure from getting a kill. This day couldn't get any worse. Picking up and dusting off her cigarette from before she was so rudely interrupted, she lit it and pressed the earpiece on her visor, "This is Widowmaker, the mission was unsuccessful. I was distracted by an Overwatch agent… somehow she knew where I was and who I was after." After a few seconds of silence, a monotone voice replied to her,

"Understood. TALON will begin research as to whether we have a mole in our ranks immediately. Do you have the identity of the Overwatch agent?"

"Oui, call sign 'Tracer'." There was another brief pause,

"From our intel the only thing we have on her is that she is a resident somewhere in your current location in Kings Row. We can't be sure but she has been spotted at the local 'Hoof & Haunch' on multiple occasions. Up until now she hasn't been a problem and taking out a target that is protected by Overwatch may be unwise due to our lack of intel on their current strength since their recall... Your new mission is to do reconnaissance and get as much intel as you can on Tracer to determine whether she is a threat or just a nuisance. Safehouse Charlie should hold supplies for a month, however we expect you to complete your mission within two weeks. Good luck Widowmaker, and I have been told to ensure you that your failure will not be forgotten when you return."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Failure wasn't tolerated at Talon, and the only reason such a long leash had been put on Widowmaker was because of her effectiveness in completing mission. Reconditioning was more likely the punishment, but if a satisfactory job can be done with assessing Tracer then perhaps she could get off with a simple slap on the wrist meeting with the commanders.

Still with the lit cigarette in her mouth, Widowmaker pushed her rifle onto her back and made a run for Safehouse Charlie, using her grappling hook to effortlessly swing from rooftop to rooftop silently, covered by the darkness which came with nightfall. After what couldn't had been more than 15 minutes, an exhausted and very cold Widowmaker stood at the door to the safe house, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention as she stumbled around for the keys.

After all the events of today, Tracer still would not leave Widowmakers mind. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of her failure, and of the witty, bubbly girl who orchestrated it all.

Shaking her head Widowmaker made her way inside, consciously ignoring the blush she could feel burning its way onto her cheeks. Immediately as she walked in she took note of her surroundings, that this was probably one of TALONs more functional accommodations, obviously made for undercover missions with fake personal items scattered around. Flicking the switch, a dull light came on in the living/sleeping area. A tired Widow sighed heavily, grabbing the duvet from the small single bed in the corner and wrapping it around her tightly before searching the draws and cupboards for anything she could entertain herself with. Sleep never came easy to her, so any sort of music or portable dvd player would be perfect to lull her high functioning brain to a deep slumber.

After a few minutes and on the verge of giving up, a smile creeped upon her slender lips. Gently she gripped on the two wires and pulled them out their draw, her smile slowly turning into a soft chuckle. What she found was an old Ipod Unlimited. This was the first ever music device that granted the user an unlimited amount of storage space for their songs. The device was revolutionary at the time, and eventually led to the hard drives capable of holding an entire consciousness… but right now Widowmaker was only concerned with one thing, "Oui… cela va faire…"

Flicking through a few of the songs as she laid herself out on her single bed, Widow was surprised at how many songs where on this device, clearly whoever it used to belonged to had it for some time. Suddenly her eyes lit up, and she placed in her headphone wires while the angelic tone of classical music rushed over her… She was out within minutes, and that same song was all she listened to all night, a crooked smile planted on her lips as a certain Overwatch agent crept into her dreams.

' Black dress with the tights underneath,

I got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth,

And she's an actress, actress,

But she ain't got no need.

She's got money from her parents in a trust fund back east.

Tongues always pressed to your cheeks,

While my tongue is on the inside of some other girl's teeth,

Tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef,

That I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him.

[Chorus 2x:]

She wants to touch me.

Whoa, oh,

She wants to love me.

Whoa, oh,

She'll never leave me.

Whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh,

Don't trust a hoe,

Never trust a hoe,

Won't trust a hoe,

'Cause a hoe won't trust me.

Xs on the back of your hands,

Wash them in the bathroom to drink like the bands.

And the set list, set list

You stole off the stage

Has red and purple lipstick all over the page.

Bruises cover your arms.

Shaking in the fingers with the bottle in your palm.

And the best is, best is

No one knows who you are.

Just another girl alone at the bar.

[Chorus]

Shush, girl, shut your lips.

Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.

I said, shush, girl, shut your lips.

Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.

I said, shush, girl, shut your lips.

Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.

Whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh.

[Chorus] '


	2. You Can Run But You Can't Hide

6 O'clock sharp. That's the time Widowmaker woke up every day, whether she had a mission or not.

Something inside of her made her think it was the reconditioning that did it, but she could never be sure. How could even the scientists at Talon rewire a human beings basic need to sleep until fully rested? Then again, her blue tinted skin was proof of just how far the braniacs would go to create the perfect human weapon.

Hesitating for a moment, Widowmaker begrudgingly opened her heavy eyelids to the flashing of the same red numbers on her nightstand as every other morning. In a way, something inside her wished it wasn't 6:00 and instead was 6:05, or even 6:01. As much as she wanted it she couldn't... even just the thought was blasphemy. Whether it to give the finger to the smartasses that put her mind through hell or to cling to the small amount of humanity she hoped she still had, she wasn't sure she'd ever truly know until those red flashing numbers she saw when she woke up weren't the same. That was, if that day would come at all…

Shaking her head Widowmaker woke herself up, ripping the headphones from her ears with a gentle tug before sitting up calmly on her bed. Most people when they wake up have a few seconds of sleep mode, either letting their body get up and do their morning routine without so much of a second thought, or just tune out the world completely, allowing their minds to daydream and forget the constraints of their dull daily lives… but not her. In that sense, she wasn't human. Her brain working to its full potential and running through her objectives for the day like she hadn't even been to sleep at all. Forced to begin her day with all the care and diligence in the world.

Firstly, she had a mission to complete, and that meant getting up and cleaning all the equipment she might need for today. For this day in particular her goggles and rifle would be too obvious, so she settled for the knife she kept strapped to the outside of her thigh.

Secondly, since it was a recognisance mission, she would have to be able to blend in, and that meant selecting apparel that fits with her current location well enough to be considered 'un-noteworthy' as well as applying makeup that covered the blue tinge her skin. After a short time deliberating on her outfit and the rest of the time making sure her skin looked just right, by 7:00 sharp she was ready to start her mission.

The end result of her labour was actually rather satisfying to the eyes, starting with black thigh high boots and a short matching skirt, to stop her blue knees from showing she had to wear some black tights but it was complimented well with the dark grey hoodie and black bodywarmer combo on her midsection. Since it was chilly outside no one should think twice about that or her warm black gloves.

In a way, the stealth part of her mission was a blessing, as it allowed her actually to layer up rather than be in that perverted bodysuit Talon insisted on making her wear. Apparently, the official reason she had to wear it was because of the moral boost anyone on Talons side got when seeing their prized weapon in her 'armour'. When in reality it was little more than another aspect of her life Widowmaker had no control over, shoving her out there in the near freezing cold just because they could.

With everything ready, Widowmaker left the safehouse, checking her make up one last time before finally being satisfied enough to leave in search of 'Tracer'. It's strange, she thought to herself, how nothing is known about this girl. Usually the very least she had to work on was a real name, but with Tracer all she could make do with was a callsign. That and the name of a bar located in the centre of Kings row, which actually is quite hard to find from street level.

That's one of the few things she hated about these missions, she was never allowed to bring her grappling hook. In her mind, it was THE superior piece of equipment, meaning she could see routes her future pursuers would get slowed down by before she was even detected. It was as much as an advantage as a bird in a maze, not having to bother with the endless deadends and simply getting straight to her target. But as she walked around the corner to see the same fish and chip shop she had already passed 3 times that morning, she began to realise that she had been well and truly trapped in the maze. With no way of flying over the hedges.

Letting out a frustrated sigh she decided that following the stubborn idea of just walking in the vague direction it was until she found where she needed to be may not be the best plan of action. Instead, she decided to take a break, wondering into a rather pleasant looking Café that had caught her eye the first time she had passed it, 'Brew'd Awakening'. It looked rather out of place, with the bright colours and pleasant looking flowers hanging from adorable little baskets suggesting it would be better suited to a small corner of Paris than a dodgy looking street on the outskirts of London. That alone made her mind up for her.

Immediately as she walked in Widowmaker was hit with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, the sound of people gossiping merrily and, perhaps most prominently, the sight of dozens upon dozens of different baked goods. Walking towards the counter a small man donned in a black apron had the most genuine smile Widowmaker thought she'd seen all day. It was almost a pleasant change from the drab, morbid expressions of the people walking the streets outside.

"Hello, Welcome to 'Brew'd Awakening'. What can I get for you today madam?" The mans voice was even chirpier than his face, so much so that it unsettled Widowmaker, who couldn't fathom of being that happy herself without literally killing someone in the process.

"Bonjour, I would like a Café au lait s'il vous plait." The young man typed something into his register and the apparent excitement he did it with made Widowmaker feel sick.

"Ok, that will be £2.50. What name is that under please, madam?"

"Umm… Willow. Merci." The question kind of hit Widow out of the blue, she wasn't quite sure why she didn't expect it but it still caught her off guard and inwardly she was punishing herself for the lack of judgement. In truth, she knew her name before her reconditioning was Amélie but just didn't care. In her mind Amelie was dead and she had taken her body. It's strange she has never given a thought to what her own name should be other than Widowmaker, but Willow seemed like the right choice for now.

Handing the young man the money she quickly turned around, trying to find a seat before his smile made her throw up. She found one of the only free discreet tables in a corner, settling down on a rather comfortable leather chair. She could now relax in peace and think about how to find the one thing that linked to her target.

Once sat down she took a small tablet looking device out of her bag and started searching for an address where the Hoof and Haunch could be. To her displeasure it seems it must only be a small residence as they didn't have any web presence whatsoever. No matter how many different ways she tried she couldn't find an address for this place and it was thoroughly stressing her out. It was a relief when a waitress dressed in the same black apron as the young man who served her came up with her coffee and a small pitcher of milk.

"Ahh… merci." Only after thanking the waitress and taking her drink did she realise something rather off, "Wait… Excuse Moi…"

The waitress, who was about to make her leave turned back, "Oh, is something the matter, Miss?"

"Oui, your associate asked for my name. And while I 'ave been sat 'ere several peoples name where called out for them to collect their orders… so why did you bring this to me when you should have called my name out like the rest?" Widowmakers eyes were looking at the waitress with an accusing glare. Was she an assassin? A waitress hired to kill the infamous Widowmaker by poisoning her coffee? That's if she was even a waitress at all…

"Oh well… umm…" The blonde haired girl stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to gather her words. Widowmaker could see a blush forming on the girls cheeks and it caught her rather off guard. Eventually though, the girl seemed to gather the small ounce of confidence she needed to look at Widowmaker with a small smile and quietly say, "It's just… you're probably the most beautiful person I've seen in here… a…anywhere really… and I came over to umm ask…"

Widowmaker instantly dropped her glare, realising that the woman wasn't an assassin but simply wanted to ask her out. Strangely this wasn't the first time this had happened, and to her annoyance Widowmaker doubted it would be the last.

"…. If maybe you'd want to go to get a... a drink tonight? I know a nice place called the Hoof and Haunch and…"

Widowmakers ears pricked up, this is the first she's heard anyone speak of the bar all day. Weighing up her options, it dawned on her that the girl probably wouldn't be willing to tell her where the place was if she was to reject her offer. And even if she did, it could create a scene and draw attention if this girl sees Widowmaker there after making up some excuse. There was always the option of following the girl after she finishes work but having to follow on foot with barely any knowledge of Kings Row may just make her more lost than she is already. It seems the easiest way to get the location of the bar was to go with this girl, if Tracer was there then great, if not she would know the location and be able to return whenever she pleased.

"I….Uhh… take that as a no then?" Widowmaker was pulled back from her thought with the blonde trying not to look too hurt, but failing miserably. Clearly she had taken her thoughtful silence as a bad sign. Internally wincing, Widowmaker let her face drop as she eyed the blonde with a lustful glare.

"Hmmm… So you are asking me out on a romantic evening, non?" Making her accent heavier always seemed to work when seducing people, and today was no exception. The waitress smiled, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red while her body relaxed a little. She looked new to asking random strangers out to drinks, but Widowmakers question seemed to give her a confidence boost.

"Well… I wouldn't say romantic. More of a me treating a beautiful woman to a drink or two." Widowmaker smiled, this girl was like putty in her hands.

"Ahhh, I see. Tell me, la Mignonne… What do they call you?" The girl looked at the ground again, brushing a piece of golden hair behind her ear,

"It…it's Morgan. My name that is… I mean that's what they call me too…."

"Well, Morgan, I don't see any way I could refuse this offer. To spend an evening in the company of a delightful looking woman, such as yourself, I would be a fool to refuse, non?" As she said this, Widowmaker began to lean forward. Her glare focusing on Morgans rather adorable sea blue eyes, the younger captivated in Widows deep golden stare. In truth, Widowmaker thought that Morgan was a beautiful woman. She was breath taking but in a rather natural way with her small, button nose and petite body with just the right amount of curves… If she wasn't on a mission she may have passed the time by giving this girl an unforgettable evening in more ways than one… but she was on a mission and that came first.

"Oh… wow. I finish at 6... where shall I pick you up?"

Widowmakers smile persisted, even though acting so romantic without sounding ironic was becoming a struggle. She hated that side of seduction, but knew it was completely necessary to get the information she needed so soldiered on, "Oh non, non! I will be here at 6, I don't mind you buying me a drink but I am no damsel, amoureux. I prefer to drive than be a passenger… So to speak."

Gleefully catching the intended innuendo, the girl nodded, and agreed to be ready and waiting for six o'clock. But before she left the waitress made a quick turn and blew Widowmaker a kiss, which the older girl caught with a large smile. Seemingly happy Morgan went back to work with a spring in her step while Widowmaker sat back in her chair. Once Morgan had turned she frowned and flicked the kiss away, just holding onto the imaginary act of affection making her stomach turn. Right now though, even the impending 'date' she was about to go on couldn't stop her from smiling, her red lipstick covered lips letting out a small whisper before wrapping around her coffee mug and enjoying her now free day…

"Mon Cheri... tu peux toujours courir, mais on te trouvera toujours..."


	3. How Can You Love Someone

How could you love someone who is incapable of even the most basic human emotions? How could you feel safe around a woman that only feels truly alive with her finger over the trigger and a head firmly in between her crosshairs? How could you sleep without fear, knowing that the woman lying beside you willingly has sent hundreds of people into the cold embrace of death himself?

Widowmaker asked these questions to herself regularly, never quiet being able to figure out the answer. Well, that's not exactly true. She usually just came to the conclusion that it was impossible, forcing herself to accept that if any girl knew her true identity their first instinct would most likely to run away. Despite this she still tormented herself with these questions, hoping that one day she would find the answer and potentially find someone that made her feel alive without having to take their life.

Inhaling her final drag of the stub in her fingertips she suddenly realised the time and began to make her way back to the Café. Widowmaker wasn't one for repeating her mistakes, and stayed only a street away in a local cinema to occupy her until Morgan got off work. She smiled at the luck bestowed upon her earlier, not only was she getting to find out where Tracers hangout was, her drinks were going to be payed for by a rather adorable young girl all night.

Widowmaker then had a ugly thought, one she really wished she had ignored. It made a pit grow in her stomach and the questions she tried so desperately to block out flood back through her mind. It wasn't Widowmaker that was getting treated to a date tonight, it was Willow. Morgan didn't ask the blue skinned weapon, she asked the pale skinned beauty version of herself. The alter ego that was really just a façade, and in a way, it gave her the answer she was too scared she would get. No one could love her. Not if they knew who she truly was.

Turning the corner 'Willow' had to disguise the downhearted expression on her face when she saw the small blonde waitress waiting in front of the café, who immediately spotted her and waved with a grin that was so genuine it was almost childlike. That's when it hit her, Morgan was a beautiful girl no doubt but she couldn't have been older than 25. And that was if Willow would have squinted and was 50 feet away. Up close see looked more likely to be the better side of 20 something that she couldn't believe she didn't notice earlier on today. Maybe she did need a reconditioning session, even if they were very unpleasant.

"Hey, glad to see you actually showed up!" Morgan looked happy but as soon as she realised what she said her blush returned, and Willow gave a small smile to calm the girl.

"Bonjour, And of course. I would have to be mad to reject an offer from such a beautiful young lady. But answer me this, mon Princesse, why would such a young and delecate flower offer to spend her evenings with an old woman?"

The question seemed to take Morgan off guard, as windowmaker took a step closer to the girl. The blonde looking up at the towering brunette with their faces only inches apart, "I… I don't think you look old. You DO look wise and angelic…"

Willow smiled, planting a kiss on the girls forehead before wrapping her in a hug. It was meant no more than a simple greeting but the way Morgan held on alittle too tightly for Willows liking made her think she may have to cut back with the flirting, "Ahhh, great answer. Now, do you mind leading the way to this bar you wish to take me to?"

Morgan giggled, linking her arm with Willows and not giving her option about it as she marched ahead, "This way, it's a 5-minute walk. But, do yourself a favour and call it a 'pub'. The owner is pretty much your stereotypical cockney and has kicked people out for a lot less!"

Clearly this was an attempt at humour with the way Morgan slapped Willow on the chest after telling her. This, as you can imagine, was probably the worst thing she could have done. If it had not been for the mission she would have gotten out her blade and sliced the annoying girls head off right there and then. Somehow though, she managed to stop herself, repeating the phrase 'too many witnesses, and you need her for the mission' over and over in her head.

Luckily, she only had to endure her 'dates' rantings about trivial things that annoyed her for less than 5 minutes. Well... at least she wouldn't have to endure it sober anymore.

As Morgan led her into the 'pub', she realised The Hoof and haunch was a small place, only one room and one bar with more tables than Willow ever thought possible in such an enclosed space. It must have had a capacity of 50 people at most, and that's if you didn't mind getting suffocated while you have your beer. The only area, apart from the bar, that didn't have a table was a small corner where a few old men where sat throwing darts on a board, Something Willow was especially good at in the TALON wreck room. Overall it had a quietly jolly atmosphere, everyone seeming to know everyone else no matter how far spread apart they were sitting. About 7-8 people where sat in the pub, but with the murmurs and laughter you could be forgiven to think it was double that when simply passing by.

All that seemed to change as the two newcomers arrived, everyone glaring towards Willow, seemingly ignoring Morgan all together. The room went silent and it held for a good 10 seconds, before Morgan nodded towards the room, "Don't worry, she's with me."

That seemed to be good enough for the rest of the patrons, the jovial atmosphere continuing as if the two girls never even entered in the first place. The barkeep however, kept his glare firmly on Widowmaker. He was a heavy set man, with suspenders over his shoulders keeping up his trousers and a small dickie bow making him seem rather comical. Morgan, still linked arm in arm with Willow either didn't notice the death glare the barkeep was giving her date or simply didn't care. A small part of Willow hoped it was the latter, meaning that was just his face.

"Charlie, nice to see you again. This is Willow, my date for this evening so play nice." Morgan gave an accusing look towards the man in the dickie bow who stopped cleaning the glass in his hand momentarily to put his arms up in surrender, his face lightening up much to Willows relief,

"A'right, A'right. You know we can't be too careful now these Talon folk are wanderin' about the streets like they own the bloody place now can we?" Morgan smiled and seemingly let the gentlemen off the hook and turned back to her date. They had both taken a stool that was placed in front of the bar when Morgan gestured towards the cockney,

"Willow, I'd like you to meet Charlie. A right arsehole who just happens to be the owner of this fine establishment." Charlie laughed, placing the glass (That still didn't look completely clean) on the bar. He extended the left suspender with his thumb and held his right hand out to Willow,

"A friend of Morgan is a friend of mine. Nice to meet you cocker." Willow let out her delicate hand, being dwarfed by the owners as he wrapped his sausage fingers around her black gloves. "So, what can I get you two love bird this fine afternoon."

Willow was about to open her mouth when Morgan beat her to the punch, placing a few £20 notes on the table, "A pint of your finest house cider and a glass of red wine for the lady please, Charlie-boy! And keep 'em coming!"

The next few hours passed by in a bit of a blur, Willow barely ever drank and trying to keep up with the obviously more experienced Morgan was defiantly a bad idea. She can't remember how it happened but she found herself snap back into reality when her third dart flew into the double 20 spot of the board, the small crowd in the pub shouting and cheering her as a distraught looking Charlie looked on shaking his head,

"Jesus Christ, lass. No one has ever had the balls to beat me on my own board…" Morgan jumped up from her seat, running up and giving Willow a kiss on the cheek.

"I told you guys, my girls a special one!" Willow just gave a drunken smile in response, her head spinning as she wrapped an arm around Morgan's waist.

"Merci, 'owever I'm sure it was just luck." Charlie, who had gathered himself enough to stand up, gave Willow a firm pat on the back,

"Three times in a row? Not bloody likely!" He turned his attention to the girl on the other end of Willows embrace, "You've got a keeper there Morgan, keep her and never let go… At least until the mornin'!"

That brought another loud cheer from the pubs patrons, each of them banging on the tables from the excitement the Darts match/drinking game had brought. Slowly Willow began to piece together the blur that was her last few hours, memories flooding back to how the old men had challenged her after seeing her drinking wine and then preceding to be challenged by more and more patrons, defeating them all until Charlie was the only one left.

"So, 'ave I shown my skills well enough for you to forgive my roots from Francais?"

Charlie let out a bellowing laugh, making his way behind the bar to pour Willow another drink, "Definitely lass!" He handed the glass to Willow who immediately began sipping,

DING

The whole bar turned and once the patrons saw who it was the jovial attitude was gone, each of them taking their drinks and disbanding from the tight group formed around the dart board and back to their respective tables.

Craning to see who entered, Charlie frowned, "Excuse me ladies, I have to deal with this, enjoy the rest of yer nights and if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

Willow turned, curious as to who could possibly want to enter the bar so close to closing time. Morgan didn't share her curiosity and grabbed Willow by the hips, pulling her into the corner of the pub and holding her close. Before she knew what was happening the blonde was devouring Willows lips, kissing them rapidly and parting her lips, trying to be romantic and sensual. In her drunken state however, the blonde girls movements where sloppy and ended up just licking at Willows lips, something she didn't appreciate. Even though her makeup was specially made to pretty much stick to her skin after it had been properly applied, just the thought of Morgans tongue on her face disgusted her as it smelt of cheap cider, she had to pull away, much to the shorter girls displeasure.

"What's wrong?" Morgan asked, her trademark blush making another appearance. Willow had to think fast, she had to make an excuse,

"Mes excuses, Morgan. Tonight, has been most pleasant. But I don't think we should rush into anything too quickly… especially in our current state, non?"

Willow thought this was pretty acceptable, since Morgan was obviously hammered and even though Willow was starting to get some of her senses back was struggling to stand even with the young girls arms holding her up. Morgan apparently didn't feel the same way. After a lot of shouting and more foul language than Willow had ever heard in one sentence (Some of which she was glad she couldn't understand, but by the looks on the other patrons the words she where using must have been pretty foul) Morgan stomped out of the bar leaving Willow rather unaware as of what just happened. That's when she caught sight of Charlie, who was gesturing for her to come over and sit at the bar,

"Don't worry about our Morgan, once shes had a few drinks in her she tries to shag anything with a pulse. You a'right?" Willow was actually fine, the outburst was pretty much the best case scenario for her. Suddenly realising she should look at least abit hurt she made it look like she was putting on a brave face and shrugged,

"I will be fine… I just though this girl was different. I mean, what happened to romance? Wanting to get to know someone before sticking your tongue down anothers throat…" Charlie laughed, patting Willow on the shoulder, she was such a good actress she convinced herself sometimes.

"Don't worry, Willow. I know you didn't mean our Morgan no harm. If you ever feel like dropping by don't even hesitate, you hear?" This made Willow genuinely smile. Charlie, despite his occasional foul language and poor glass cleaning skills was a nice person. Either that or the wine had done more to her than she first thought. Realising that might be the case her mind stumbled in trying to remember something,

"Merci, Charlie… umm… If you don't mind me asking where is that person you needed to see? The one that made 'alf the pub go déprimé" Charlie, obviously having no knowledge of French thought for a minute then clicked on to what she was talking about,

"Oh yeah, That's just my old mates young 'un." He shook his head and looked to the floor, obviously Willow had hit a sore spot but Charlie carried on, "You see, her dad and I were like brothers, and I was his kids godfather. Obviously, it was meant as a sentimental thing… it always is. Long story short he was in a hovercar accident when they first came out. Him and his wife passed away and since neither of 'em had any sort of family to speak of their young 'un was left with me."

Willow put a reassuring hand on top of Charlies, "I'm sure you have done a great job of raising 'er."

With a forced smile Charlie nodded in thanks, "Well, I tried my best. Looked after her like she was me own flesh and blood. In fact, she's only nipped to the loo so you can judge for yourself."

"Oh, mon Plaisir. What is this delightful girl's name?" Charlie chuckled, refilling the French girls empty glass,

"Lena. Lena Oxton. You know lass, Something tells me you kids would get on like an house on fire!"

"Hey, Uncle Charlie! I told you that place going up in flames was not my fault! I was only 13 and it was abandoned anyway!"

Willow went rigid, knowing the voice of this 'Lena' all too well. It was the voice that dipped in and out of her dreams the night before, the voice that made a small sense well in the bottom of her stomach. The reason of her first failure…

"Tracer! Great timing as per, just telling this fine French beauty about you. Lena Oxton, meet Willow…" Charlie halters a second, obviously Morgan hadn't given a second name but right now that was the least of Widowmakers worries. Sure, this 'disguise' would trick the public with all the evil drawing the press published about her. Tracer though? Who had come inches away from the her not a mile down the road back when she killed Mondatta? Anyone who had come that close and was in the right mind would see through it instantly. Gulping quietly, Willow looked up. Instead of making a run for the exit though, she was left rather confused.

Tracer was fiddling about with the zipper to her blue stained jeans, not really paying attention to what Charlie had said. As she took a few steps closer she bumped into a table, grumbling absurdities at it, all the while still stuck with her zip… Willows caution fell, she was no longer worried about getting recognised as she stood up from the bar and boldly made her way to the Overwatch agent.

"Allow me…" Before Tracer, or anyone else in the bar for that matter, realised what was happening Willow had pushed aside the small brunets shaking hands and grabbed the metallic zip herself. Looking deep into Tracers eyes she pulled the zip up, making the brits huge brown eyes open wide. Even with contacts to hide Widowmakers golden eyes they were still mesmerising to Tracer... and Willow played that to her advantage. Applying slightly too much pressure, Willow made sure Tracer could feel her soft gloved fingers press against her crotch, sliding the zip up slowly, making sure to build the anticipation inside her. When she finally finished, Willow simply let go and returned to her seat. Leaving a very flustered Lena Oxton.

"Blimey love, what makes you think you can be so forward?" Ignoring Charlie, Tracer took the empty barstool next to the simply dazzling French girl. Willow just shrugged, as if rubbing a girl's crotch was the normal thing to do when you meet a stranger.

"I wasn't being forward, Mon Cherie… you just looked like you need 'elp. And since you're the drunkest in this bar I felt obliged." Taking another sip of her wine, she couldn't help but smile. Apparently, her little tease worked better than expected. Tracer simply was too drunk to think about anything but the heat in her crotch, the fact she was sitting across from the world's greatest assassin wasn't even a concept in her mind.

Letting out a bellowing laugh, Charlie reminds the two girls of his presence, "See, didn't I tell you! I haven't seen Lena that flustered since she got caught shaggin' on CCTV!"

Suddenly Lena's attentions are towards the Landlord, her lips pursed together and her freckles hidden beneath her blush. Her hair was erratic and all over the place but like usual her fringe fell ever so slightly crooked, her face went back to normal for a brief moment, as she blew the hair back into formation and instantly her mad face was back. It was possibly the most adorable thing Willow had ever seen.

"I knew you'd bring that up! I told you, I was 13 and I didn't know an abandoned building would have CCTV." Willow chuckled softly, still playing to her role perfectly,

"Per'aps you would be able to give me the true story then, non?" Tracer turned back to Charlie, silently warning him about butting in and he just held his hands up, gesturing for Tracer to go ahead. With a deep inhale she turned back to Willow,

"Alright, well… I was 13, and had just met a girl a few years older than me. I was doing as you do, chatting her up and that, more to impress my mates than actually thinking about shaggin' her. Anyway, turns out I underestimated just how good I was at charmin' the pants of girls, and before I knew it she had took me this old abandoned Car factory. I gave her a good go and she did it in return to me and I was happy as Larry, probably happier since I remembered I had a few fags left in me pocket. Not thinking about the fact that it was a bloomin' car factory, after we 'did the deed' I threw the fag and started to get dressed, must have been some gasoline on the floors or somert because the place went up quicker than a Chinese firework. Me and the bird barely got out there in time and the next thing I know coppers are round our Charlies house threating me with arson! They caught the whole thing on camera. Luckily the judge realised I was in the air cadets and had aspiration to join the RAF, which you can't do with a criminal record, and I was let off with a slap on the wrist on the condition I stayed out of trouble from then on. The rest, as they say, is history."

Willow sat in awe, the story was obviously more than she asked about but she sat patient throughout, hanging onto ever word that came out of Lena's mouth. Tracer wasn't sure why she added that part about the RAF but she didn't want to stop talking, this new French girl looked at her with a sense of wonder and amazement like no one else did. It's the first time she's ever told anyone the full story, but Willow just seemed to eat it up.

"That is an impressive tale, Mon Cherie… per'aps you would be willing to share more the next time I am 'ere?" Willow tried to act embarrassed, when really, she knew exactly what she was doing. Although she will admit she got caught in the tale Tracer was telling most of her intent stares where just to draw out information. Her mission. That Lena wasn't going to ruin this time.

"Aww.. can't I buy you another wine sweetheart? I saw Morgan leave in a stomp so I'll take a stab at saying your bed will have room for one more tonight?" Lena winked, and suddenly Willow realised what she meant at charming the pants off girls, before she had chance to think of a response Charlie quickly intervened,

"Haha, Lena I think I should interject and remind you that your bed IS full tonight before you go off and do something stupid." That got him a scowl from Tracer, taking another sip of her pint, she turned away from Willow,

"I've been doing something stupid for the best part of two years, Charlie…" Charlie frowned, shaking his head,

"I'm not having that nipper, we all know that soon you'll be back in Overwatch and…" Obviously trying to raise her spirits, Charlie had that infectious smile, one that Tracer wasn't in the mood for,

"I'm not on about that, plonker. I mean Emily…" Suddenly Charlies face fell, and Tracer was cursing herself for her big mouth.

"Lena, I'm gonna ask you something and I swear to god if you lie to me I'm going to call in your bloody Tab." Lena's eyes didn't leave her drink, she was cradling it with two hands. Her face had lost all its joy from moments earlier. Meanwhile, Willow was still sat right next to them, afraid to move in case they remembered she was there and move the conversation to somewhere more private, "Take off your goggles."

This request seemed strange to Willow, even though they had an orange tint to them you could still see Tracers deep brown eyes in them. The only thing it did was make her skin go a weird shade of orange. Still the young girl obliged, carefully removing her goggles to show a very prominent black eye. Willow was left absolutely dumbfounded, the girl defiantly didn't have that the previous day. Her goggles where around her neck and Widowmaker wouldn't miss such a prominent mark on the girl's beautiful skin. This must have been fresh. Charlie just shook his head, not looking at Lena once he saw the mark,

"Who?"

Tracer was caught, she took another sip on her drink and thought about her answer before finally coming to a decision, "Widowmaker. That assassin I stopped from killing the local MP…"

That's when it happened. Silence.

The whole pub went silent, the quiet murmurs that had been going on since Tracer came into the room stopped and everyone turned their heads. Apparently, the name of the assassin was a sore spot. Either unaware every person in the bar was hanging to her every word, or simply not deciding to care, Tracer carried on,

"I… I saw her. Face to face. I could've killed her, just pulled the trigger and all those people she hurt… all the lives she took would've been avenged. Lenny, Biggie, even little Nathan…" Taking in another sip of her pint Willow noticed one of the younger men begin to tear up at one of the names, but Tracer carried on, "Remember him Charlie? Tim used to bring him in. He was so happy, reminded me of myself he did… and then Tim's company gets behind on his 'protection' payments and then poof. Remember when Nathan came in asked me what I did? Remember Charlie?"

Charlie nodded, his face the embodiment of the rooms low, morbid atmosphere, "I remember Lena… he said he wanted to be just like you. You where 'is hero, you know that."

Tracer hits her fist on the bar, the tears welling in her eyes visible now her goggles where off, "Yeah well some hero I turned out to be! I could have killed her, I could've stopped this fucking fear people have of Talon and I didn't... and do you know fucking why Charlie? You know what made me zip off that roof rather than avenge Nathan, end all this shit!"

Charlie couldn't give her any words, he just shook his head. Willow hadn't noticed, but the guy who had been tearing up before had broken down, crying into his hands as a few of the people around him consoled him, "I couldn't because…. I couldn't kill her because I fucking loved it. Her pointing her gun at me and mine at hers… I wanted her to shoot me first. End my life and the miserable fucking mess it's become, then she went and aimed at my chest piece and I froze."

Standing up, Tracer went over and sat on the floor with the man on the floor crying, everyone stepped away, with only the echo of Tracers footsteps filling the room. She sat cross legged and stared the man in the eyes, "Tom… I'm so sorry. I could've killed your son's killer… but I got caught up in the moment and…"

Without warning, Tom reached out and hugged Tracer shaking his head as his tears subsided, the same can't be said of Tracer, whos tears began running freely, "No. Don't say that Lena. Nathan loved you, he used to beg me to bring him to this place. I… it's my fault. I should have never thought I could get away with not paying Talon but I couldn't afford it. I begged to them, told them I had a son and he needed feeding so they… Oh god…"

Willow actually couldn't believe the scene unfolding, it seems the whole place had been filled with people Widowmaker hurt. She always knew that some of Talons jobs where more important than others, but she had been their errand girl. Of course she remembered killing the boy, to this day the only child she has killed. It didn't feel right, it didn't give her satisfaction. She refused similar missions, of course Talon threatened her with reconditioning but she stood firm, if it wasn't for Reaper threatening to leave Talon to fend for themselves they probably would've just brainwashed her to enjoy killing children even more… which was a thought that made her shudder.

Even though the black eye Tracer got wasn't from Widowmaker, everything else was. In fact, they were all kills in which she had been in the London area. Talon gave her missions here since Mondatta on the regular, impressed with her efficiency and ruthlessness. For that reason, she was now filled with a dozen people who hated her guts and wouldn't hesitate at putting a bullet through her brain… everyone but Tracer.

Having never seen the after effects Willow was actually feeling a pang of guilt, not that she could recognise it. To her, it was simply her palms getting sweaty, stomach turning over rapidly and the thought of the little boy repeating in her head. She remembered everything, from the union jack hanging above the boy's bed to the model planes scattered on his floor. She was silent, shooting him in the head as efficiently as she could manage. She wasn't sure why, at the time she told herself it was to make sure the boy didn't awake with a bullet screaming bloody murder, looking back it was to end his life quickly, no pain.

"Ok everyone, take a glass." Willow snapped back into reality, her thoughts being pushed aside as she assess the situation. Their where about a dozen shots lined up on the bar of some brown liquid, from the smell she guessed whiskey but couldn't be sure. Slowly, one by one, the patrons came to the bar, grabbing a glass and waiting patiently for the next person. Eventually Tracer followed suit, with Tim in tow.

Charlie then poured a final shot glass, handing it to Willow which made her feel more than a little awkward. After shaking her head, the large man insisted, "You're in a british pub lass, we drink to remember the fallen. You haven't got a choice."

Willow smiled awkwardly, "Merci." Charlie nodded, and rose his glass to the air,

"Alright, I'll make this short and sweet. Nathan, you weren't old enough to drink in my pub. That just means the rest of these twats will have to drink your share for ya. To Nathan!"

"To Nathan!" Everyone simultaneously downed their shot, it was a touching sentiment to one of the pubs youngest regular.

With that, everyone in the pub realised it was getting late and made their way to leave. It was strange, it was like the place was bi-polar. One minute the atmosphere was jolly, then it turned sad and ended up at downright depressing. Even though everyone else looked downer than earlier, one short haired brunette looked a little chipier,

"Hey, Willow wait up!"

Willow was getting her back and was about to make way like everyone else. As far as the mission goes she had more than enough for tomorrows update to Talon so she didn't feel the need to linger any longer. Of course she couldn't use that as an excuse, "Ahh.. Bonjour Mon cheri… What can I do for you?"

"Nothing love, just want to make sure you can get back by yourself?" The look in Tracers eyes was adorable, Willow could see she wasn't trying to act too desperate but it came off like a child being told its bedtime. Quickly thinking it over, Willow decided to have a little fun, that… and she wasn't quite sure how to get back to her residence…

"Well… I could always use a companion to walk me back? But this does not mean you will be doing to me what you did in that factory…" This made Tracer blush but she jumped at the opportunity. Willow noted her reluctance to go home and concluded that things with this 'Emily' must be bad for her to avoid her. With a mocking salute Tracer giggled,

"Scouts honour, a kiss at the door will be more than enough from a beautiful lass like yourself…" This caused Widow to giggle, the cheek of this girl was just too much. She began walking in the direction she believed her home to be, with Tracer in tow.

It took a while, but from Willows vague directions she gave Tracer they managed to eventually find her small safehouse. The conversation on the way was pleasant, Willow made up being a nurse and she had come on holiday at her step-brothers place while he stayed at hers. It was a tangible story, and would last a few weeks, as long as no one dug too deep. Tracer was surprisingly quiet, apart from showing Willow shortcuts to certain streets she was more than happy to just walk and listen to the French woman and her brilliant accent.

Standing outside her door Willow stopped and turned to tracer, "Lena, I 'ave 'ad more than a pleasant evening with you tonight, it actually brings me slight sadness that you are already taken. Bonne nuit, Mon cheri."

She says this jokingly of course, but it still leaves a blush on the cheeks of Lena Oxton, who was determined that this not be the last she sees of Willow, "But luv! Aren't you forgetting something?"

Willow looks round confused, making sure she had her bag and keys, "Oui?"

Tracer pointed to her cheek, pressing her face forward. Willow chuckled to herself, walking over to give the agent her deserved kiss. As she leaned in Tracer quickly turned her head, meaning Willow hit her lips instead of her cheek with her soft kiss. She broke it off quickly but didn't move her face more than a few inches away, "Mon cheri… that was underhanded, non?"

Tracer giggled, a delightfully high pitched laugh and just nodded her head, "Alright, I'm sorry. Tell you what, since I got what I wanted I'll give you a free wish. Anything you want."

Willow smiled with her slender lips, she was sure she could get the girl to do literally anything if she asked but this was not the time. Instead, curiosity got the better of her, "I want…" She gently removed Lena's goggles, bringing a soft glove to her eye, "…You to tell me who gave you this. You said the assassin did this yesterday? This is a fresh wound… not a day old one, Ma Cherie."

Lena looked to the floor, that wasn't what she had in mind at the offer. Looking back up, she saw the older woman with a serious expression. She couldn't lie to Willow, "I see you weren't lying about being a nurse… Look, it was my missus. I… have a bit of a drinking problem. So, when she comes home and I'm pissed she gets real mad… livid actually…" Tracer rubs her neck averting her gaze from Willow, "She gets so angry sometimes she hits me… I mean, I like it rough in the sack don't get me wrong but there 'aint no love in what she does…. She isn't strong, and I know I could stop her but, why should I? I'm a useless piece of shit that isn't even good enough to be cannon fodder anymore. Overwatch think I'm too fragile to be in the front line so use me as their poster girl…at home I just sit there and take all the verbal and physical abuse she hurls at me… a..an and I feel like a right twat because I know I'm going to go back home and forgive her like I always do. Because it's all a fucking waste of space like me deserves."

Shaken, Willow was unsure what to do. She had discovered everything she may ever need on Tracer. But this thing inside her felt terrible. Like what was happening to Tracer personally affected Willow… I believe they call it sympathy? It's terrible, "Lena… I want you to be honest with me. No lying like you did with Charlie back at the pub."

Tracer nodded, her shoulders shaking as tears stream her face again.

Slowly Willow turned, she fumbled with something for a moment and as she turned around her contacts where gone, leaving only the yellow iris of Widowmaker. These distinctive eyes making Tracer realise what was happening. Before she could run, Widowmaker grabbed her hips, pulling her closer so their chests touched, Widowmaker brought her face centimetres away from Lena;s. She knew Tracer could jump away, but she wouldn't. At least, that's what she hoped.

Tracers eyes went wide, Widowmakers lips thrusting on her own, her knees felt weak. Even though the woman she was kissing was a murder she couldn't help but kiss back, opening her mouth in the hopes Widowmaker chose to explore her mouth further. To her dismay she pulled back, and brought her lips closer to Lena's ear, in the softest most irresistibly sensual voice Tracer thought possible, Widowmaker asked her question,

"Do you want to die?"

Without a moment's hesitation Tracer answered, and it wasn't exactly what Widowmaker was expecting, "Yes… but kiss me again first…"

It is at that exact moment, Widowmaker got the answer to the question she most desired.

How could you love someone who is incapable of even the most basic human emotions? How could you feel safe around a woman that only feels truly alive with her finger over the trigger and a head firmly in her sights? How could you sleep without fear, knowing that the woman lying beside you willingly has sent hundreds of people into the cold embrace of death himself?

The answer to how you could be with such a woman? Well it's simple when you think about it…

You have to be unable to live without her. Love her so much that if she did decide to take you from this earth, you wouldn't even struggle. All because you know at the moment of your death… your making the girl you adore most feel more alive than anyone else on earth.


	4. A Whirlwind Night

"Right, is everyone ready?"

"Yeah!" five other agents roared in unison, while Bastion gave a determined, "Whirrr"

Jack smirked, impressed with his recruit's enthusiasm. He clicked on his slideshow, presenting a bird's eye view of the point they needed to defend and the point at which the Talon troops were being deployed.

"Torbjorn, you take charge of Team Bravo. Set up defences around the payload and if any of their engineers make a run to try and get that thing operational you have permission to engage. I suggest staying low with Bastion and allow Hanzo to cover you from up top but it's your team so do whatever is necessary. The three of you drop in 30 seconds." The small Scandinavian saluted, attaching his battle hand before leading Bastion and Hanzo to the back of the ship, the hatch opens but the flashing light to the side stays red.

"Don't worry lad, we will be fine." Finally, the light flashes green and the three agents jump from the plane. The doors shut and after an anxious few moments Bravo team confirm their safe landing near the payload. After a quick sigh of relief Jack turns to the remaining three agents,

"Ok, You three know your jobs. Athena, make sure we are all in full health, Lena, you watch out for snipers on the rooftops but until you get visual conformation stay with me behind Reinhardt's shield. Only blink if you have a recall ready and…"

A large, booming voice cuts jack off, "Morrsion, my friend. Young Lena knows exactly how this works. Don't patronise the young girl, even if she is on her first mission."

Jack looked slightly taken aback, even though he was the senior authority, Reinhardt had been fighting by his side for the best part of 20 years and knew how to put the commander in his place. Without any words, he simply lowered his head, Lena knew he was too proud to apologise for simply wanting to keep the new recruit safe, but his silence spoke volumes.

The remaining four made their way to the back of the ship, and with an uneventful landing set up preliminary defences, "Ok, per our intel Talon should be here in less than 5 minutes. Status report. Bravo how're things looking?"

Torb: [My turret is set up, if anyone gets past you we'll mop them up.]

Hanzo: [I am keeping eyes on the defences. Scanning arrows are yet to see any life whatsoever.]

Bastion: [Bweeee]

Lena chuckled to herself, taking cover behind Reinhardt. Even though Bastion didn't have a voice module he still liked to feel part of the team, he was probably closer to a guard dog than a human. Everyone loved him and he loved the attention from protecting his new friends.

She paused her thought when a low beat could be heard from the distance. Footsteps, and a hell of a lot, at that. The old German was the first to react, running forward and earthshattering the first group of talon agents, sending around 10 agents obviously not expecting a battle onto the floor. Jack and Lena followed quickly, killing all the agents on the floor before returning behind Reinhardt, who now had his shield ready for the second wave. Athena meanwhile stayed back, covering the three in her biotic field. It was like Jacks, but gave a slight damage increase to all weapons in the range as well. Jack was always jealous of this ability, but Mercy only gave Athena the extra damage field because her Robotic structure held the power better than Jacks smaller portable versions.

The second wave, this time consisting of around 15 men where smart enough to not charge around the corner, with their teammates lying dead mere feet in front of them. After a few seconds, the men rushed around the corner, a few getting gunned down instantly but it was enough to distract the Overwatch agents with about 5 of them making it to cover.

BANG!

"SNIPER ON THE ROOF!" Reinhardt near yelled, even though both his teammates where safely behind his shield.

Without the need for a command Tracer blinked forward, making it to a fire escape that was out of sight from the Talon agents shooting blindly from behind cover. In a blue blur she jumped ontop of the roof, and made a run for cover. After taking a quick peek and seeing nothing she jumped between the narrow gap over to the next building, taking cover again. With each building she made it closer to the sound of a rifle, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand with each hiss that made its way towards her teammates.

Ignoring the turning feeling she held in her stomach, Tracer methodically made her way closer, and after moving down a full street she finally caught glimpse of Talons Sniper.

Soldier 76: [Lena, that sniper has us pinned down. Reinhardt's shield won't hold much longer! Retreat to Bravo point and we will meet you there.]

Tracer shook her head, whispering softly into her comms, "Sorry love, no can do! I have the sniper in my sights. Might as well take the bugger out now."

A series of loud shouting noises came from the comm, but not wanting to give away her position she brought her hand to her ear and switched it off. Soldier 76 was gonna be pissed… She took several deep breaths, the suspense hanging in the air as she waited for the sniper to take another shot…

BANG!

As if it was a starting gun to the 100-meter sprint Tracer was off in an instant, blinking behind the sniper with the sound of the bullet cackling through the air covering the noise of her accelerator. In truth, it was a slightly surreal moment. 30 centimetres in front of her was probably the best sniper in Talons arsenal, taking aim at a barely visible blue shield way off in the distance. A million different things where flying through Tracers head, but the most prominent was that the outfit the sniper wore.

It was a beautiful purple skin tight one piece, that highlighted every curve on the girl's body. For a moment, she was lost, unsure what to do. The world became fuzzy, her mind forgetting everything around her as she stared at the Sniper. Shooting her didn't feel like an option, if she was being honest the thought never even occurred to Tracer.

"I know you can see me, mon Cherie…"

The words echoed in Tracers mind, but something wasn't right. The words that were spoken in a strong French accent, making Tracers knees go weak as she gasped for breath.

Widowmaker looked up from her sight, not moving her head but smiling ever so slightly as she saw Lena, "You like to take your time, Cherie. Perhaps you do not want to see me as much as I thought…"

Lena couldn't help the crimson shade of red covering her cheeks, and it made Widowmaker giggle. Even though her accent was soft the laugh that left the killers blue lips was full of malice, ridiculing Tracer, seeing the blush as a sign of weakness. But Tracer couldn't let her win, "Well you think very highly of yourself don't you, luv? Not like I'm going out of my way to see you ya know!"

Widowmaker lowers her rifle, taking a few steps closer to Tracer. The former stood a good few inches above Lena, her nose in the perfect position to smell the top of Tracers Strawberry scented mess that she called a hairstyle, "Ahh… Perhaps not, but we both know if you COULD go out your way to see me, that is exactly what you'd do. Aren't I right ma belle?"

Tracer was at a loss for words, she so desperately wanted to deny it, to come back with a Whitty comment that would have made Widowmaker feel embarrassed… but what was the point? She just slumped her head, not offering any kind of retaliation, much to the French girls delight.

Like a shark she began slowly circling Tracer, inspecting her body precisely and not even trying to be subtle about it. Tracer stood still, and as Widowmaker stood face to face with her again, she lifted a delicate hand up to Tracers chin, bringing the shorter girls dark hazel brown eyes level with her own golden orbs. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife, as the two girls stood for what felt like an eternity. For a moment, Tracer closed her eyes, anticipating and hoping for Widowmaker to lean in and kiss her right then and there. Instead the break of this beautiful moment was a lot more abrupt,

"LENA, I said WAKE UP!"

Tracer was struck hard on her chin, making her recoil and sit up on her sofa. Looking around, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. No longer was she on the rooftop, she was in a flat. The tall and elegant Widowmaker was nowhere to be seen and in her place, was a much more angry looking girl, fires in her eyes and her hand raised. Lena realised where she was, and a tear welled up in her eye. Bringing her knees to her chest, she cradled her now throbbing cheek and looked up at the furious girlfriend that was in front of her,

"I… I'm sorry Emily…" Due to shakiness of her body, a mix of emotions made Tracers voice barely audible. Out of all the people in the world, all the people she had fought in combat, all the times she's had guns pointed at her head, nothing made her more scared than a pissed off Emily. It wasn't the beatings that scared Tracer, it was the mental torment that made Emily the person she feared. She knew so much about Tracer, that just by shouting insults and abuse at her Emily could mentally break the poor thing, make her feel so terrible that Tracer thought she deserved whatever came after… and at this moment Tracer knew she was in for it.

"Oh… you're sorry? YOU are sorry?" Emily's nostrils flared, as she grabbed tracer by the scruff of her neck, pulling their faces practically together. At this point, Tracer had become a mess, the joy and hope that was usually bursting out of her gone, replaced by what resembled a traumatized child,

"I… I am Ems… I.. I really am.." Even though Emilys question was rhetorical Tracer couldn't help but blabber out a response, hoping that Emily would just leave her be and go out like she sometimes did. Tonight though, she wasn't so lucky,

"YOU are drunk Tracer, been drinking whiskey all day while I'm out busting my arse off to keep a roof over our head! Look at you, you are a fucking disgrace! No WONDER Overwatch won't let you go on missions anymore, you're just a pathetic slut with a drinking problem…"

When Emily uses the word 'slut' to describe her girlfriend Tracer looks like the words physically cut into her, making her crumbling face finally fall as an onslaught of tears cascaded down her delicate cheek, which was quickly turning into a worrying shade of purple.

Of all the insults Emily called her it was Slut she hated the most, of all the times she had been hit on while dating the fiery redhead she never accepted one of the advances. Tracer was loyal, most of the time blindly so, doing anything and everything Emily asked until eventually Emily stopped asking. The redhead had sacrificed everything for their relationship, going into hiding with Tracer once Overwatch fell meant giving up her life, but it seemed worth it for the girl she loved. After a few months, she quickly realised her relationship with Tracer wasn't what it was in the honeymoon phase. Tracer had always been the happy one, the one they could both rely on to pull them through anything, but once Overwatch stopped giving her missions she fell into a spiral… one Emily just couldn't pull her out of. Ever since, Emily took it out on Tracer whenever she hated their relationship. It was a fairy-tale where the princess gives up her whole life for the one she loves… but in their case the closest they will get to a happily ever after was the façade they both put on around others.

Shaking her head, Tracer got up and pushed Emily away from her, grabbing bomber jacket with tear stains making her look like the joker. The redhead, knowing exactly where the brunette planned on going, shook her head, "Oh yeah, go and drown your sorrows even more… It's nearly midnight, they will be closed soon!"

Hand shaking, she struggled to pull open the front door, muttering to herself as she goes to leave, "Every minute I'm there is another I'm not spending here…"

SLAM!

The air was so cold, her breath alone causing a fog that her chronal accelerator illuminated in a beautiful baby blue. Before she ran out she remembered to take her goggles, even though she didn't need them they covered her black eyes perfectly, most going unnoticed even to Uncle Charlie at the bar. As she walked down the dimly lit streets she took a small bottle of Vodka out of her jacket pocket and started swigging, the liquid feeling warming her chest and making her feel numb once again.

She was only a street away from the bar, and could make it with three blinks if she wanted to, but as the haze of full blown drunkenness fell over her she decided to enjoy the walk a few moments longer, slowly stumbeling up to the door and pushing her way inside.

Even from the outside the Hoof and Haunch looked cheerier than usual, that all changed when she walked in, the whole place going quiet and the patrons going back to their seats. The only people who drank here where locals, ones Charlie could trust. Sure, he had to charge more for a pint but you couldn't beat the feeling of security that you felt in the place, knowing that if anyone steps out of line Charlie would be there with the shotgun he keeps behind the counter.

Making her way to the bar, Charlie finished up talking to Morgan and some other person she couldn't make out and made his way over. His smile not unwavering in the slightest despite her obviously foul mood, "So Tracer what's the situation tonight? In fact, I don't want to know. Just tell me what will cure it."

Tracer managed a smile, nodding her head to a pump with apples on the label, "Pint of Magners please… but I need to nip off to the little girl's room before we get into any serious chat tonight."

Charlie nodded knowingly and made her pint, after a disgusting bathroom trip (Charlie didn't really spend too long cleaning the girls loo and hence they were probably more disgusting than the men's) she tried to do her zipper back up but to no avail, when she heard Charlie gobbing off, "…House on fire!"

Instinctively, not even lifting her head up from the Chinese finger trap that was her zip, Tracer retorted, "Hey, Uncle Charlie! I told you that place going up in flames was not my fault! I was only 13 and it was abandoned anyway!"

[This shouldn't be happening]

"Do you want to die?" The words echoed around her ears, in her head an eternity was passing, her mind racing over all the different things she could say. It was all to no avail, as her mind was stuck on the kiss, lingering on her lips like her body was trying to memorize Widowmakers soft sensually touch. She needed more, and whether it was her drunken state or inner conscious she spoke without even realizing it, "Yes… but kiss me again first…"

Her face was beetroot, her mind cringing at how pathetic and embarrassing her words sounded. Not that her body cared, all she could feel on the outside was ecstasy, the danger of the situation, the thought of going out on such a high… to the hands of the women she dreamed… it was the best way she could imagine.

Widowmaker leaned in closer, resting her forehead on Tracers. She knew how much this teased the poor girl, their lips so close but not wanting to upset Widowmaker she restrained. The towering figure smiled, noticing the tension held in Tracers now rigid body, her voice gently teasing the girl, "Then… I am afraid you will be disappointed… I oversee you now Ma cherie, whether you like it or not. If you refuse anything I ask of you, even one small order, then I will not only leave you ALIVE… but I will personally kill every last one of the people inside that retched place you call a 'pub'… If you play nice however…"

Tracer was mortified, but her fear and uncertainty where instantly washed away when Widowmaker leaned in for another kiss, letting all her problems disappear out of her mind as the girl in front of her dominated her attention. For the second time Tracer opened her mouth, silently begging Widowmaker to go further, but again she was left disappointed, frustration welling up inside of her. Widowmaker sensed this, shaking her head to the younger girl, "Non, non, non. This is not how this works. I am not like you. I do not simply give you what you want. You must earn it. You must make me believe there is nothing on this earth you will not do for me and then I will release you. I will send you off into a bliss, like the ones you get from the bottom of your bottle… just a lot more permanent."

Blinking a few times, Tracer looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she felt like one too. Unable to move, even though it would be so easy to blink away… but she didn't want to. The heat she felt in her heart, the shakiness of her breath and the warm feeling she thought she hadn't felt in years came rushing back. Her body didn't give her a choice, it's Widowmaker who held all her strings, and knew exactly how to pull them to milk every bit of suspense and frustration inside her and turn it into a feeling of security, like killing the girl was actually going to be a favour to Tracer… and Lena Oxton believed every word.

"H…how do I show you..." It's all Lena could manage, her senses where going into overdrive and Widowmaker knew she was on the ropes.

"You mean how do you agree? Well mon petit canard… all you must do is say 'please'. One little word and you can forget about going home to the  
chienne who did that and you may come inside with moi…"

Although Tracer couldn't feel it, Widowmakers heartbeat was pounding, warm blood pulsing through her veins so fast that she was sure about to explode. Her body felt warm like this, with Lena Oxton in her hands, trembling as her animal instincts take over, submitting all power over to her. It was like owning an empire, and having someone at your beckoning call... and after two weeks she could kill the girl. Kill her with the small brunette happily while she had that adorable little smirk on her face. It would be perfect. All she had to do was agree.

"P..Please…" Tracers inner struggles where helpless, she simply couldn't refuse the french beauty. She offered her an out, an escape from her last two miserable years and she intended to take it. The worst-case scenario was she died and became a Martyr for Overwatch, the best-case scenario she got a night alone with the girl of her dreams and they fall in love… Best case scenarios aren't always realistic…

Without giving Tracer a chance to change her mind, Widowmaker pulled her inside the TALON flat. "Come, you will freeze to death out here."

With the adrenaline running through her body she felt like she was on fire, until her body began shivering… almost as if it betrayed her into proving Widowmaker right. Without another hesitation they both came inside, where Tracer was handed a small pair of booty short Pjs and a large top.

"Get dressed. Then go lie in bed. It may be small, even for just myself… but I believe I could find room for ma petite canard." This made Tracer blush, as she quickly got changed and jumped in bed Widowmaker got changed in the Bathroom. She took a moment to contemplate what she had potentially gotten herself into, but when she saw Widowmaker in possibly the sexiest lingerie she had ever seen, she decided not to question anything.

It was a black one piece that looked silk and was ever so slightly see though, but not enough to see anything she so desperately wanted. Seemingly knowing that Tracers eyes were on her, Widowmaker walked with a swing in her hips, showing of her curves and magnificent frame. Tracer was practically drooling at this point, as Widowmaker got into bed next to her and lied down, acting like the pair had done it for years, "Close your mouth…You will catch flies Ma cherie. I will wake you at 7AM start to start your assignments..."

And with that, Tracer reluctantly turned around and tried to get to sleep. They had started off the night back to back, but somehow when Widowmaker awoke Tracer was in her arms, looking rather childlike in her innocence and natural cuteness. Absent minded glancing up to make sure of the time, Widowmaker went rigid, her heart rate skipping a beat as the red lights flashed…

8:40 AM


	5. Ignorance is Bliss

Hi again guys! Seems like forever since I posted (Mostly because it has been) But just so you know this story still has life yet! Want to say a huge thanks for my Beta reader/editor of retard mistakes I make HispanicSamurai. If it wasn't for him I definitely would have just sat on this story for another couple of weeks. As always drop a review and Follow this story if you like it, Fav it if you really like it ( Old school Philly d mode) because it really does help me even if its just a critique. Without further delay, the long awaited chapter 5...

* * *

"Widowmaker. I've been told to enquire about your recent updates... as in there haven't actually been any."

Although slightly offended Widowmakers response was monotone, biting her tongue about Reaper's lack of respect for now, "The target 'as been located. I have evidence to suggest she is no longer an active member of Overwatch, despite being in good physical condition they 'ave chosen to make 'er there 'Poster girl' of sorts"

"Hmm… Interesting." Even through the phone, Reapers long metal fingertips could be heard scraping the chin of his mask inquisitively, "Do you have any idea, why this might be?"

Widowmaker looked at the still sleeping Tracer, her black eye marking the otherwise adorable agents face, "Non, she was perfectly healthy when she… disturbed me the other day."

Reaper tutted disapprovingly, "Well then that is…"

"Let me finish… that day, when I aimed for the petite nuisance's 'ead, the girl never flinched. in fact, she almost seemed giddy at the idea of me pulling the trigger. When I went for her 'anchor' on the other hand…" Before Widowmaker could continue Reaper cut in,]

"She wasn't so cocky? Well even though she needs it to stay in this time the planet of the ape they have over there could just make her a new one. Even if they couldn't the gorilla wouldn't be dumb enough not to have a contingency plan..." Widowmaker rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the bed next to Lena, "Hmm… and all this about her being a 'poster girl' very interesting indeed. But that just makes how she found out about your last mission more curious. Still, for one day's work this is some good stuff Widowmaker, perhaps I'll put in a good word for you with the head honchos, I think they were setting up another one of your… 'sessions' soon. Then again, judging by the fact you didn't kill the girl on instinct, who knows? Maybe a few days in the lab wouldn't hurt..."

Widow wasn't paying full attention, her gaze firmly on the brown stain under Tracers eye. The truth was she had a lot more to report, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Against her better judgement, she sighed softly, standing up in slight annoyance, "I only kill those who I am ordered or see fit. That is not all. Reaper… I'm calling in your favour."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The seconds passed by slower and slower until finally, the cloaked figure responded without a hint of emotion to his usual croaky voice, "So, curiosity has finally gotten the better of the great Widowmaker? You realize knowing the truth won't mean you will be able to change anything."

"I am prepared for that outcome. If I am honest... I'm not sure what possible answer is my first choice. But not knowing is affecting my judgement. I need... "

Reaper could only let out a soft chuckle, he knew this day would come, even if Widowmaker was so adamant it wouldn't, "I'll be there in 30 minutes. Once you know, we are even. Goodbye Widowmaker."

"Au Revoir, Monsieur Reyes." Hanging up the phone Widowmaker wasn't confident she had made the right choice. Still with her eyes fixed on Tracer, she picked a cigarette off the cabinet and lit it, returning to her spot sitting on the edge of the bed. With every inhale of the warm fumes her memory of the day her and Reaper met became more vivid, until it seemed to fill the conciseness of her mind.

* * *

"5 minutes until touch down. Widowmaker make your way to the Bridge. I repeat, 5 minutes to touch down and Widowmaker make your way to the bridge, that is all."

Rolling her eyes, Widowmaker dutifully got up, slinging her rifle over her shoulder as she made her way to the front end of the ship. Soldiers were kept in the hangar while 'generals' usually just stuck to the bridge, getting called up there wasn't unheard of, but it was rarely for anything good. As she made her way through a few small doorways she eventually found the Bridge, all the generals standing to attention dutifully as she arrived. It was Doomfist who was first to greet her, preferring to get directly to the point

"Hello Widowmker, I'm not going to waste any of your time as I know you are just raring to go rest up for your next mission. It seems our Mumbani division is having trouble with Overwatch lately and therefore I will be away from Homebase for the foreseeable future. Therefore, I am putting all tactical management of troops down to someone I know I can trust. All Logistics will still be run by the suits and the financers but as far as you are concerned, my replacement is your boss. De boys in de lab believe that changing my authority over you to someone else may reduce the effectiveness of your mental training, so I have instructed him to give reconditioning at any signs of disobedience, or even worse, emotion. Do you understand?"

"Oui, I understand. When is it I meet this new 'Boss'."

Doomfist let out a small chuckle, directing her to the corner of the room where black smoke began seeping its way through the miniscule cracks between the walls. Slowly it began spilling through faster, animating dark boots, a long cloak and a mask that made a man not dissimilar from the Grim Reaper. If the Grim Reaper had two shotguns and claws on his gloves, "Widowmaker, meet your new superior. Dey call him, 'Reaper' for obvious reasons."

'Reaper' gives a small nod before cracking his neck to the side, "I've heard good things about you Widowmaker…" As he begins to speak the automated voice announces their arrival, to which Reaper just grunts and begins to make his way out of the ship, "Walk with me, we have things to discuss."

* * *

30 minutes later and Widowmaker is waiting at the TALON drop off site. It's a small alleyway not too far from the safehouse, except for signs of homeless activity it was more or less baren, apart from the few Dumpsters and the disgusting aroma of rotten food. Fortunately, she isn't kept waiting long, as familiar black mist begins sweeping around her boots and animates a few feet down the alley.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Reyes." Widomaker let out a soft chuckle and flicked her cigarette away as she saw Reaper get agitated at her words.

"Enough. We are both under no illusion as to why we are both here. I tell you what you want to know and you remind Sombra that name never existed. Deal?" Reaper crosses his arms tapping one of his metal fingers against his elbow impatiently waiting for the assassin to make her move.

"Don't worry. With what I have on Sombra it is in her best interest to comply. Let's just say neither Overwatch nor TALON would be too 'appy to find out what D'va and Sombra get up to on their days off." She let out another small chuckle, taking out her knife and gently cutting open a small cut in her left wrist. She then gently picks out a cube, about the size of a pea, before using her blowtorch lighter to heat her knife up and cauterize the cut she had just made, "' 'ere, give this to Sombra AFTER she deletes your past."

Reaper looks stunned as he holds the small chip in his hand, he holds out his arm band and inserts it into a small slot carefully. Instantly loud moans can be heard, and a small image is projected of the Mech Pilot known as 'D'va' and a familiar Latina sharing a passionate exchange in bed. Windowmaker was on the same mission in Korea and just so happened to have bugged the Overwatch agents room earlier that day. To her knowledge Sombra was yet to even know about the film, but she kept it safe underneath her skin at all times, just in case. Stopping the video Reaper returns to his usual cross armed stance, leaning slightly on a dumpster to his right, "Well, I suppose now it's my turn."

Widowmaker stands motionless, closing here eyes with a small sigh. She swiftly pull another Cigarette from her sleeve and lights it with the same instrument she heated the knife. He heart wasn't beating at an abnormal level, but the tension she could feel rising in her body needed a release. After a few drags, she takes a step close to Reaper, and in a voice that is barely a whisper, she asks the inevitable question, "Who was I before TALON captured me."

Reaper lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head slowly and in a nearly condescending voice he answers, "You were Amélie Lacroix. You were the right side of 30, beautiful with the world of performing arts bowing at your feet. You were married to Gérard…"

Growing impatient Widowmaker throws her fist into the dumpster Reaper was leaning on, making him shift to stand up straight and cutting him off. She was growing increasingly pissed off at this little charade of social normality Reaper insisted on and now she just wanted answers, "I read the case files, I know all of this already! I 'ave sat and watched my own performances, even my own Wedding and feel nothing towards them, towards HIM. Tell me something… anything that will make me feel who I was… even if there is nothing I… I need to know…" Widowmaker slowed her speech, even while she knows she should be getting upset, or feel sadness she can't. The turning feeling she felt in the pub last night returning, making her just more annoyed.

For a moment all Reaper does is stand and watch, as if calculating a math problem in his head, debating the ways to get around to solving it, before letting out a deep breath of his own and shaking his head, "Amélie had a few things only a handful of people know about, and four of those people are officially dead… including me. I can tell you, but if it doesn't work, if it doesn't give you what you're looking for, I won't stop TALON from reconditioning you. I care to much for who you used to be to see what they will do to you after becoming ineffective. Like I said, we will be even. No Reyes and Lacroix. Just Widowmaker and Reaper."

Stunned, Widowmaker takes a moment to think. After all that has happened with Tracer, the way she crumpled up into her as soon as she discovered her true identity, how having her in the same bed disrupted her conditioning. It had to be worth the risk. To see if this girl could be the key to breaking the chains Talon had her gripped in so tightly, or if simply it had been too long since her last 'session'. She had to know.

"I will only ask this one more time Reaper. Who. Was. I."

Reaper nods, sitting against the now dented dumpster and gesturing for Widowmaker to follow suit, which she dutifully does, handing Reaper a cigarette and relighting her own. He takes a moment to form the words in his head before beginning,

"It was about 5 years ago..."


End file.
